CHAPTER XXXIV.—A CRISIS

Waikato Times, Volume V, Issue 276, 17 February 1874, Page 2

CHAPTER XXXIV. — A CRISIS

3ei!g.', attended Mr 8t Quentin's present state, absolutely prohibit the lawyer's visit. Ho would see MrStQuentin agaii\ when thin trying ordeal had been gone through. Ho tbcn left Miriam, deo|-ly impressed by his gravity of look and manner, and in groat perplexity. Sho knaw nothing about what hor position would be, what her bgiJ rights, if Mr St (Juenlin sliould die without having nude a will, and alie haJ every reason to believe, if he did make a will, it wo iIJ bo m>Ht unfavourable t> her. What shouM B io do ? Was it in her power to do anything ? Mr S Qucutia's valet had ooine to attoud on his master , and was in the room when she returned to it. He was going out soon on ttio business with winch sho had|charged him. A servant oatne to the door with a telegram. 'Bring that to mo, Briton,' said Mr St Quentin. It was from the firm of Ross and Raby, and informed Mr St Quentin that & confiJeniial olerit would wait on him at noon on that day. Mr St Quentin then said he thought ho could sbep for awhile, but gave orders, as emphatic as in his weak state he could make them, that the gentleman from Ross and Ruby was to be brought before him, immediately on his arrival. He ieU ahieep very socn, and Minam sat hidden from him by the bed-curtains, listening now to his breathing, anon to the tiding of the clock on the mantelpiece, sometimes to the wind and rain. She wondered there had been no message from Walter Perhaps he would arrive at the same time with thia lawyer fiom London; but it did not matter. Then she read the telegram acari. The confidential clerk of Messrs Ross and Raby nt not coming direct from town— the message said ' from Deal.' No doubt he was already in the neighbourhood on business. B.ie would look at the Railway Guide, to find out by what ti«i.i Walter might u rive. The book was in the sitting root i, and she rose and passe • through her own bedroom will- a noiseless step, leaving the doors unclosed. She found the &ailv>ay Guide, and was looking over it, leaning on the tab! •, when the heard steps m the corridor close to the door, and one ot the hotel servant* turned the handle gently, and looked in. Then he throw the door open, and said— ' Mrs St Quentin ii here, sir.' Miriam turned her head, and saw Walter. It wn-i a strango meeting. They spoke hurriedly, ciu-tic.u-.lj, l«t they should disturb thu skewer. Miriam could not clo»e the doora, lest he should call lor anything for he was alone. They looked long .n each other's face, and they both sighed. Miriam led her brother to the farthest eitrennty of the room, and seated herxelf beside him, encircled by lna am ,*. How handsome he wns looking, but so much older ; and how strangely gray his hair was, almost as gray as Mr St Qucntin's. Eager question, and answer as eager soon plaoed Walter Clint in possession of the circumstances under which his sister had summoned him, and confirmed him in his general impression of Miriam's m.rried life. Then she acknowledged what her purpose hod been, until Mr St Quentin's illness had prevented its accomplishment, and received from Walter a hasty assurance that she should come to him and "Florence when she pleased. Miriam had so oiuoh to say to him, the immediate circumstances were so pressing, that sho lost all of his long absence, and made no allusion to his adventures. Beyond the surprise of the first moment, and the sense of the alteration in the faces, present to the minds of both, there was no strangeness after a little while. Miriam told him that Mr St Quentin had aa yet made no will, and that a lawyer was to arrive in little-rao>-e than an hour's time to make one, and that she had re«on to believe she should be left with only a bare pittance. 'How do you know?' said Walter. 'What horrible trencnery and injustice I' ' I will tell you. I have seen some memoranda of his— they are there, in that desk— on the floor— at tins moment, by which it is evident he means to— Hush ! what's that ? Did he call ?' She arose, went to the open-folding-door, and itood listening. Mr St Quentin did not call, did not speak. After a minute of deep silence, she was moving back towards Walter again, when they both heard a distinct and peculiar sound. It was not articulate— it was l.ke the noise, half-clicking, halt-grating, winch a clock makes an instant before it rtrikei. She stopped, and again stood porfeotlv still, then said : 'It certainly comes from his room. I shall ju»t look at him, and be back in a moment.'

Tub closing in of tha nig'i around illness, suspense, and natrluug is always terrible, even in one's one- homo, with all Hie quiet, sympathy, and consideration which homo implies. Miriam never forgot the closing in ot the night in that strange place, and with all the discomfort of a hotel, of stranjje faci'i, imsympathising servants, and her own overwhelming fatigue. She was not old enougk to do without sleep, or to endure broken rost, and she batl never felt no tired in her life. The rolling of the sterner was in her head, she was sick and giddy, but her mmd was clw enough, and busy with her position and its future probabilities. Tbe disposition of their rooms, a sitting-room and two bedrooms, ill three communicating with each other, was fortunate. Mr St Quentin had been placed in th» inner room, and the next was for Miriam. It was not until every preparation had been made for carrying out the doctor's instructions during the night that Miriam had even tbe rtii«»f of changing liar dress. She was looking ill nnd wan, nnd her face bore an expression of concentrated care auJ anxiety. Mr St Quentin was in an alarming state of pain and exhaustion for several hours, but then became much easier, and Miriam yielded to the persuasion of her maid, an Englishwoman, I nho bad replaced Bianca, an.l permitted her to take the i post of watcher beside the sick man until the morning. Miriam was staggering with fatigue, uud her fear of falling J asleep ajd npglcctmfT the patient decided her. She saw the I valpt before she left, her husband's room, and instructed niui to go into the town on the following morning, and endearour to procure apartment*, or a furnithed bouse, ready for immediate occupation. At length tor aching head was laid upon her pillow, hut it was lonj; before *he slept : her limbs t Hitched from fatigue ; her restlessness was distressing, for she wanted to think, if she might, uot sleep. This was, she felt sure, a crisis in her life. Not so much because sho was about to lose her husband, but because, whether he lived or died, it wa» plain to her he was going to decide her fate. He was about to make a will, und on that will must depend the solution of the question whether her ' great speculation,' as the had bitterly called her marriage in her thoughts, was a failure or a success. If he did not secure to her by this will the continuance of the wealth sho had enjoyed since her mania^e, then she should hare sacrified her youth, her beauty, her conscience, incurred the degradation of a loveless murriage, und exposed herself to the malerolent ridicule of the world, for a few years of luxury and pleasure, jmt enough to unfit her for humbler thing* and simpler enjoyments. She w«u sorry for Mr St Quentin. She did not iike to se« him suffer ; but there was no stronger feeling than natural compassion in this — no softeuiu/j of tae mistrustful anger with wiiieu »h« recalled his lace conduct, and speculated on his present intentions. She had no reason to tnink that the sufferings he had undergone, on her a«idu:>u\> attondsner on him duiing tluw latter days, had had any influence on his feelings towards her. H© waj tranqnil nnd easy, hut not sleeping, when bhe left the room, unc'. she had naid a few kind words-, and taken his hand. But he had onlj muttered somuthing inarticulate in reply, nnd drawn bis hand coldly awoy. This had not hurt her ; *ha cured nothing for him ; but it had kept up the alarm she had never ceased to feel. For :i long time Miiiam lay awake, h.'arim?, through the open door, the occasional murmurs, moans, or impatient questions of the sii-k <nan, and the soothing answers of the watcher, or her quiet movements in the adjoining room ; when the wintry dawn w an not far otf, she fell asleep, and awoke, reluctantly, only ut tha appointed hour, when her mairl, looking pale and weary, cwmr to rouse her. Mr St Que.itin had been very ill towards morning, but the pain had again yielded to mnedtoa, and he was quirt now. Miriam aro«e, put on a v arm dressing-gown, nnd to< k her place beside him, di*nti«nins her maid to re*t. 'Do not como down until 1 send fur you,' she said. 'If he refuses to have n nurse, I must ot the doctor to speak to him, and persuadj linn.' The doctor came early, and wn« not encouraging. Mr 8t Quentin was greatly reduced in strength, and there was such debility about the action of ti c bfivrt, that the utmost care and quiot would ho necojaan. Mimm explained that St Quentin was ezpeoting a twtleman from London on business. Must he bn loftnod r/Hi itti mr " The doctor looked embarraeaed. It would certainly be bftt»r th it he should have nothing to excite or agitate him ; but still — Did Mr* St Qnentin know whf fc! isr th* business in question hub important ? Very important. It was to give mstruc tions for his will. Tho doctor looked excepdinglf jrrave. He wn \ovy t>orrj to und tnat Ins j.aticnt lud so aiuious ftnd imperative a duty on his mind, but ht oould not, oonfidering the immense mijurl-iuco of sdeh bueicMs, and the <itreine uncertainty which, he felfr hiraself bound to actnow-